


learn to swim

by egare



Series: A Penchant for Trouble [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: (I'm not sure how to spell Tullius), Gen, Spoilers for CW Imperial Side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7793809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egare/pseuds/egare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stages vary in time, from just a few seconds, to days, to years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	learn to swim

_"Grief is like the ocean;_

_it comes in waves,_

_ebbing and flowing._

_Sometimes the water is calm,_

_and sometimes it is overwhelming._

_All we can do_

_is learn to swim."_

_-Vicki Harrison_

**D E N I A L**

The first time Ulfric Stormcloak met the Dragonborn, the two were headed to their deaths.

He did not know who- _what_ \- the Dunmer to his left was, at the time. They sat next to one another on the cart, both of them bruised, dirty, and reluctantly accepting of their fate. And as Ralof attempted to calm the horse thief, and the Dunmer watched silently, Ulfric took the time to study him.

He had the usual sharp features of most mer, his skin on the darker side of the gray spectrum, his hair shoulder-length and in his face. It might have been put up or in a braid days ago, but prisoners were not given the luxury of cleanliness when they were going to the block. The Dunmer seemed confused, more than anything- wondering where he went wrong, what Divine he had insulted enough to get such a fate, and if there was any chance of surviving- but as the horse thief went on and on in the background about not being a Stormcloak, Ulfric noticed one surprising thing about the Dunmer. He was not afraid.

_Yol toor shul!_

And although rumor spread like wildfire of how the dragon attacked right before _Ulfric_ was executed, the Jarl knew better. He saw the dark elf- Deldrach of Morrowind- get on his knees, his head being pushed down as the second roar sounded. He saw the executioner lift his axe, lining it up perfectly with the elf's neck, before having to let go as he stumbled to the floor with the force of the dragon's Shout.

Ulfric did not stand around to see much else, and he expected to not have to see that gray skin ever again. But as Ralof entered the tower he was in, he saw the elf coming behind him. And after a quick conversation, he watched said elf jump the moment Ralof told him to jump, a smile on his face the entire time.

The smile and the timing made Ulfric wonder, nights afterward- did this Deldrach of Morrowind bring dragons with him?

* * *

It was days later, on the 24th of the Last Seed, when the world shook under him.

Ulfric and the rest of his surviving men were stopped in Ivarstead, recuperating from almost getting their heads chopped off, and lying low in the inn until everyone was fully recovered. Some had gotten injured by the dragon attack, and the group had travelled five days before they even considered stopping and taking care of their wounds.

But it was nearly witching hour, and Ulfric sat around the Inn's fire, nursing a tankard. He heard it, before he felt it. The familiar voice of the Graybeards, calling for the Dovahkiin- the Dragonborn, he knew that word. When he was a child, he wished that he could have been the Dragonborn- the strong warrior meant to save Skyrim, even if there were no dragons at the time. But after the Graybeards taught him more, after he learned... He would not have wished that fate on to anyone.

The next day, the group split in two- one would stay behind for another day, and the other would go ahead to avoid suspicion. It was mostly Stormcloak territory that they were in, but it was better to be safe than with your head on a pike. Ulfric and Ralof stayed behind with two others, while the rest left that afternoon.

Seven days after his near-execution, Ulfric ran into a familiar elf. He was talking to Klimmek, his eyes wandering to High Hrothgar, and Ulfric would have laughed at what his mind was putting together.

This elf, the Dragonborn? The warrior of Nordic legend? How his mind even came to that conclusion, he had no idea- it was impossible, he was not the right race, and he looked like he could barely lift a bow, much less fight dragons. He sported light armor and a blade, enough to make him look like he would put up a fight with a common thief, but a dragon?

"There was a dragon attack near Whiterun. Apparently, the Graybeards were calling after the dragon's skin disappeared. Only bones left in a matter of seconds, after it died." One guard was telling the other, as they walked on. Ulfric's eyes moved in between the guard and the gray skin that was slowly heading towards the 7000 steps, before he turned to look forward, shaking his head.

Impossible.

**A N G E R**

"He had my wizard falsely arrested!"

The third time Ulfric saw the Dunmer, he was chatting with his steward about serial killers. Galmar was keeping most of the Jarl's attention, and he did not have a chance to listen in about the details, but he saw him- he saw him drop by every now and again, and saw him convince the steward to arrest Wuunferth.

"To be fair, my Jarl, there was falsified evidence that went against him. And he got the right murderer, eventually. No harm done, other than a few wasted days."

"And another death." Galmar added, oblivious to the mood.

**B A R G A I N I N G**

He was standing in front of the seated Jarl, politely giving a bow but impolitely raising his head before being given permission. Although the times he had seen him were few and far between, the elf was unable to leave his mind. The Dunmer had grown- both in height and muscle as well as personality. His hair was still shoulder length, the front tied back in a rather feminine fashion, but his stance and attire screamed _'I will slice you in half if you insult me.'_

"I remember you." Ulfric started, his eyes never leaving the elf. "You were in Helgen."

"Yes, sir." The elf confirmed, nodding his head. He shifted on his feet, not sure what to start with, so Ulfric offered the topic to him.

"Come to join the Stormcloaks? Speak with Galmar, if that is the case. He handles the new recruits."

"That's not why I'm here, sir."

"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that." Ulfric's next words were chosen carefully, not sure if this was a declaration of war from a Jarl, or an assassination attempt. "What does bring you to me?"

"I have a message-" A declaration of war, then. "-from the Greybeards."

Nevermind the war idea, then. A message from the Greybeards? That was a surprise.

"It is about time they turned their gaze from the heavens, and back to our bleeding homeland. What do they want?"

"They wish to negotiate a truce until the dragon menace is dealt with." Ulfric raised an eyebrow, noting the hesitance at putting the blame on the Greybeards, but said nothing on the matter.

"I have nothing but the greatest respect for the Greybeards, of course, and the dragon attacks are a growing plague, but..."

"The political situation is delicate." Deldrach concluded, nodding. "General Tullius said the same thing, but still agreed to go."

"Tullius himself will be there?" Ulfric questioned, surprised. If that was the case, it would be safer to go. It may even be necessary, unless Ulfric wanted word to get out that he didn't want peace. The Dunmer nodded in confirmation, but he could clearly see Ulfric's continued hesitance, and pushed gently.

"Alduin has returned, and this war will not help defeat him." The elf offered, and Ulfric cursed. It was a strong argument, that was for sure.

"Alduin? The World-Eater of song and legend? If that's true, well..." He studied the elf once more, a long-forgotten thought returning to the surface. Who was he to deliver such a message 'from' the Greybeards? "That changes the situation, doesn't it? Even Tullius will be forced to talk sense in the face of such a threat."

"So you'll come, then? Sir?" He tacked the formality on at the last moment, shifting on his feet. The elf seemed almost... _Excited_. As if he was proving to his parents that he could do something.

"Yes, I will give Tullius one more chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs."

He gave another bow in thanks and as a goodbye, this one quick, and turned as if he was going to leave. But Ulfric called to the elf, before he left.

"Who are you, to be a messenger for the Greybeards?"

The Dunmer paused, a smile on his face, but he turned around to address the Jarl. "I am simply studying under them, sir. That is why I came to Skyrim, after all."

A lie. A clearly visible lie, and he knew that Ulfric knew that. But the Jarl let him go anyways, resting his head on his hand and staring at the spot that once had an elf.

"Jorleif?" He called out to his steward, who stood from the table and stood next to the Jarl almost immediately. "Was that not the elf that helped you with the murders?"

"It was, sir."

Interesting.

* * *

 

The fifth time he saw the elf, it was at the peace council. He had black robes and a golden amulet that Ulfric had not seen before, and a pleasant smile sat on his face as he stood at one end of the table, patient.

"Why delay? Please, take your seat."

The elf looked surprised that the Greybeards were waiting for him to sit- almost all were surprised as well- but nonetheless he sat down first. The Greybeards followed, until eventually everyone was sitting down except for Ulfric and Galmar. No, he had something much more important to focus on.

"You insult us by bringing _her_ to the negotiation? Your chief Talos hunter?"

"That didn't take long." Legate Rikke muttered, crossing her arms and sitting back in her chair.

"Diplomatic as usual." Balgruuf grumbled in agreement, a small grin widening on his face at the sight despite his want to just get this over with.

"I have every right to be at this negotiation." The Thalmor representative stated, turning her nose up. "I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to here that violates the terms of the White-Gold Concordat."

"She's part of the Imperial delegation," Tullius defended. "You can't dictate who I bring to this council-"

"Please," Arngeir interrupted, silencing everyone. "If we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere. Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn's input on this matter."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

The messenger for the Greybeards. The reason that the old men waited for him to sit first. Ulfric had been curious the entire time, about just who this Dunmer was, but for him to be the Dragonborn of legend? Of _Nordic_ legend? Who was to even guess that a gray skin, of all things, was the man destined to fight Alduin in Sovngarde? Could he even _get_ to Sovngarde, being a mer?

All eyes turned to the Dragonborn, and he visibly shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the attention. But Ulfric noticed the fire was still in his eyes, the one he saw before. The windows showing a roaring soul that enjoyed every moment he had control of the conversation.

**D E P R E S S I O N**

The Dragonborn had rushed out after Ulfric and Galmar, wanting a final word with everyone (sans Elenwen) that had arrived.

"Thank you for attending and agreeing to a treaty, Jarl Ulfric." He was walking down the mountain with them, but Ulfric had no doubt in his mind that the Dragonborn could run all the way back up to give departing words to everyone else.

"Who was I to deny the Greybeards'- and the Dragonborn's- request?" The Dunmer flinched at his tone, fully aware of the feelings put behind his accusation.

"You have to understand, sir, I did not intend to tell anyone that I was-"

"And yet you told Tulius? You told the Thalmor?"

"It is not Imperial or Altmer legend that I am messing up by being apart of! If he was a Nord, I would have convinced him to come to the peace council another way."

A pause.

"I understand any hatred directed toward me, I really do." The Dunmer admitted, his eyes glancing away toward the two Blades that were gaining up to speak to him. "I would not want a Nord to stick themself into Dunmer legend, neither."

"If you can take down the World-Eater, I would not mind if you were an Argonian's great-grandmother's corpse, Dragonborn." He paused as both the Dragonborn and Galmar snorted. "I do not know how long the peace will last, it would be best to not waste time. After all, do you not have a dragon to slay?"

* * *

 

" _We are free!_ "

Dragons' roars were heard all across Tamriel, and only a few were able to understand what they were saying. The Jarl of Whiterun was quick to assure everyone that the dragons were safe, at least for now, and would not attack for a few days- enough time for celebration, for man, mer, and beast alike. It did not take long for the people of Skyrim to break into merriment, happy for the safety of their world, and for a new reason to eat, drink, and be merry.

" _Alduin has fallen!_ "

All across Skyrim, festivities started up. Makeshift wooden toys were made and given to children to let them burn and defeat their own dragons. Stormcloaks and Imperials in their hidden camps sat next to their enemies for feasting, rather than fighting, for three nights; songs of praise to the Dragonborn were written in breakneck speed, everyone learning at least one variation a day after the announcement. By the end of the third day, everyone knew of the strong, blond Nord in armor that slayed the World-Eater.

" _The Overlord is vanquished!_ "

Yet even with all the praise and cheer, no one had seen the Dragonborn. He had not returned from his trip to- well, wherever he had went on dragonback, and the few that knew him on a slightly more personal level were worried. In Whiterun, a housecarl/warrior bought a horse and disappeared, off to get answers. She was asked to bring any information back to the Jarl by Balgruuf himself, the man unable to leave his city when everyone was celebrating. His guards already had to kick three drunken citizens out, after they tried to sneak into the Great Porch to see where the dragon was trapped.

" _Dragonborn is his dragonslayer!_ "

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak was happy that at least a portion of his hold was getting the Dragonborn's looks correct- they sung of the Dunmer with the dragon soul, not letting anyone forget it; he turned a blind eye when Rolff's dead body ended up hanging from the side of the White Phial that overlooked the marketplace. But he did not go to celebrate with his citizens, knowing all too well the apparent cost the Dragonborn paid for the safety of the world.

" _His Shouts are silenced!_ "

Did that refer to Alduin, or to the Dragonborn? Perhaps to both? Ulfric did not know, and he was not on well enough terms with the Greybeards to ask if they had any knowledge concerning the Dragonborn. It was not that he was worried, he did not know the Dragonborn very well in the first place, but he was curious- and he knew he had limited time to get the Dunmer on his side, if he was still alive.

He could only hope.

**A C C E P T A N C E**

"Come to join the Stormcloaks?"

This was familiar.

"No, sir. That's not why I am here."

Very familiar.

"I had heard that you died after riding away on a dragon." Ulfric pointed out, and the Dragonborn exhaled out of his nose, cracking a smile.

"These rumors are coming from the same people that say you murdered the High King with a Shout." The Dragonborn got a small upturn of the side's of Ulfric's mouth in response, both of them amused at their own Skyrim Rumors.

"While we can spend all day talking about the false stories that citizens make, please, tell me, Dragonborn- what brings you to me?"

All amusement fell off of the Dunmer's face, and he straightened slightly. A hand went to his bag Ulfric narrowed his eyes, watching carefully. He would not attempt an assassination, would he? No, he wouldn't need a weapon for that, the Dragonborn probably knew enough to Shout Ulfric to death if he wanted.

Deldrach withdrew an axe, and understanding dawned on the Jarl. He stood up from his throne, walking down the few steps and accepting the offered axe; he took a moment to study the weapon, recognizing it and its meaning. "Oh, what's this?"

"A message, from the Jarl of Whiterun."

"You have fought hundred of bandits, brought down the Dark Brotherhood, killed countless dragons, and defeated the World-Eater himself, yet those Imperials use you as a messenger?" Ulfric asked, shaking his head. "It's a pity you've chosen the wrong side, Dragonborn. They do not understand your full potential."

"I take it you are going to return the axe, sir?" He asked, ignoring the Jarl's words.

"You know me well, Dragonborn. You can return this axe to the man who sent it, and tell him he should prepare to entertain... visitors. I expect there to be a great deal of excitement in the city of Whiterun in the near future."

"We'll be seeing you soon, then." Red eyes narrowed at him, and he smirked, using his position on the steps to look down at the Dunmer.

"Sooner than you may expect."

Ulfric watched the Dragonborn go, and when the door closed behind the elf, he sank into his throne, resting his head in his hands.

"Jarl Ulfric-"

"Give me a moment, please, Galmar. I am trying to come to terms with..."

"The fact that you just made an enemy of the elf who saved the world?" His steward offered, a smile gracing his face at the macabre statement.

* * *

 

Ulfric did not fight with his soldiers in Windhelm.

He was watching, from inside the walls of the palace. He saw the storm that appeared in less than a minute, sudden and deadly. He heard the thunder and saw lightning bring down Nord after Nord, very few Imperials getting shot down by the Sparks.

And in the front of the wave of red was a single helmetless dark elf, fire exiting his mouth, forming in his hands, and blazing in his eyes. He had the utmost control over the flames- only Stormcloaks were injured and sent to the ground burning, the flames strong enough to survive the rain and storm the Dragonborn had brought moments before. This elf was the reason the Stormcloaks lost every fight- lives were needlessly wasted, in hopes that they might attack somewhere that he Dragonborn could not reach in time, that they could reclaim even a small fort... But no, the elf was always there, always fighting, and always winning.

"Jarl Ulfric-?"

It was a mistake to return Jarl Balgruuf's axe that day. He learned quickly that the Dunmer had a special place in his heart for Whiterun, and Ulfric was destined to lose the moment he threatened the town.

"You fight for your beliefs, correct, Galmar?" The Imperials had slashed through the last line of defense, and a familiar trio was making their way up to the palace.

"I fight for the sons and daughters of Skyrim, and for-"

"Come." He did not want to hear the end of the sentence, to know that he was sending a man that believed in him to his death. Ulfric knew his fate- no one, not even he, was able to survive a fight against the legendary hero. Ever since he sent the axe back, Ulfric knew he was on his way to death by Dragonborn.

He headed down to the main room, taking a seat on his throne as the doors swung open.

"Secure the door." 

"Already done, sir." Both legates replied, catching up with the General and taking their positions on either side- Rikke stood to his right, the Dragonborn to his left and two steps behind the duo. 

"Ulfric Stormcloak!" Tullius called out, drawing his weapon. "You are guilty of insurrection, murder of Imperial citizens, the assassination of King Torygg, and high treason against the Empire. It's over."

"Not while I'm still breathing, it's not." Galmar growled, stepping in between the trio and Ulfric.

"Step aside, Galmar. We're here to accept Ulfric's surrender." Rikke ordered, as the Dragonborn closed the distance between himself and the Imperials, before stepping in front of Tullius and meeting Galmar's glare. 

"I'll never surrender Skyrim into the hands of a corrupt and dying Empire." Ulfric stated, standing from his throne and preparing himself for the fight that would ultimately come.

"Skyrim doesn't belong to you, Ulfric." The Nord spat, drawing her blade. 

"No... But I belong to her." 

"Enough! You are traitors and will die traitors' deaths. Stand down and face public execution, or advance and face summary execution by my hands. It matters little to me. Either way I'll be sending your heads back to Cyrodiil."

The last blade of the Imperials were drawn, the Dragonborn not letting his eyes leave Galmar.  

"Well? What are we waiting for?"

The fight was quick, and Ulfric expected nothing less. The Dragonborn took Galmar while Rikke and Tullius attacked Ulfric, but the Jarl was easily able to catch sight of his right-hand man falling down not soon after the fighting started. He was on a knee, breathing heavily and bleeding profusely, with the Dragonborn's blade to his neck. In his distracted state, Ulfric failed to block a swing, and was in a similar state that his distraction was in.

"Well Ulfric, you can't escape from me this time. Any last requests before I send you to... to _wherever_ you people go when you die."

The Dragonborn smirked, amused, and answered without looking away from the Stormcloak commander. "They go to Sovngarde, sir."

"Right. Well?"

"Let the Dragonborn be the one to do it." It was difficult to speak, and he could feel his body starting to sag. Yet Ulfric kept as much dignity as he could, gritting his teeth through the pain and looking into the General's eyes one more time. "It'll make for a better song."

"Song or not, I just want it done."

" _I had heard that you died after riding away on a dragon._ "

Deldrach sheathed his weapon and switch positions with Rikke, his eyes leaving Galmar to look to the Jarl. The irony did not fall on deaf ears, as he saw the Dragonborn dramatically prepare to Shout. Of course, he should not have expected anything else. The mer wanted to kill Ulfric just as the rumors said Ulfric killed the High King- what the corrupted empire was telling him, no doubt. And as the Dunmer stood over him, a familiar fire in his eyes, Ulfric completely accepted his fate.

" _These rumors are coming from the same people that say you murdered the High King with a Shout._ "

"May you soon realize the truth, Dragonborn." He murmured, standing up. Tullius pulled his sword, but the elf stopped him, allowing Ulfric the last right to stand in the face of death. The Jarl let his eyes study the elf standing in front of him one last time, silent as the Dunmer no doubt did the same.

He had changed so much, from what Ulfric remembered of the small elf on the prisoner cart. His hair was shaved off at the sides- rumor had it the elf was running around with the Companions of Whiterun, no doubt they lowered his formality and strict self-made dress code. And he had heard of multiple soldiers in battle having their helmets knocked off before a gray hand grabbed them by the hair and killed them- it made sense, to fight with no hair. Less chance of being dragged to your death.

Scars littered his face, and a sliver of a large scab poked out from his left shoulder. It seemed like a tooth broke skin there; it was during a dragon fight, no doubt, since nothing else had teeth that size except a mammoth, and Ulfric had heard of the Dragonborn effortlessly taking on giants and mammoths for the safety of various holds.

Yes, this was the elf that feared nothing- he stood in dragon's fire if it gave him the chance to fire back. He would get close enough to slash the serpentine beast and stop him from Shouting, even if it meant the dragon was close enough to pierce him with a tooth. He had grown and shaped himself to become the man- the mer- of legend, someone to be feared, someone to be idolized.

And his eyes held the same fire that he saw that first time all those months ago, in the cart. The eyes of a warrior, the eyes of a ruler, the eyes of someone that was never content until they had everything. He had warned the Jarl of Whiterun, sent a message out before the war, of his Thane's natural thought process. Of his want for power, the fire that refused to go out.

No doubt he would achieve another title after executing the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion. No doubt the fire would grow larger, wanting to consume and take control of more and more.

"You were a worthy opponent, Jarl Ulfric." The Dragonborn said finally, breaking eye contact. Ulfric merely gave a nod, sure that any attempt at opening his mouth would be considered a threat.

" _Fus Ro Dah!_ "


End file.
